Homeward Bound
by Cheryl Dyson
Summary: Harry catches the Knight Bus one evening when other travel choices are unfeasible. When he discovers Draco Malfoy employed as the Conductor, he decides Malfoy is up to something because Malfoy is always up to something. His suspicion has nothing to do with the way Malfoy fills out the tailored lines of his purple uniform. Nothing at all. MATURE CONTENT ETC.
1. Chapter 1

Harry blearily signed his name to the last form and dropped it into the OUT box. It disappeared with a quiet pop and he tossed his quill in the inkwell with a yawn. Bloody hell, but he was exhausted. Thank Merlin he was off for the next two days or he might actually die.

As he yawned again, he realised he should probably not Apparate home. Exhaustion was the number two culprit in Splinching accidents, just after drunkenness. He had seen enough severed parts during his tenure to never want to Apparate under questionable circumstances.

Instead, he gathered up his personal items, pocketed his wand, and headed for the Atrium. Floo travel was still not his favourite, but it would do in a pinch.

He nearly fell asleep leaning against the wall of the lift. Only the jolt of it stopping brought him to awareness. He yawned again and dragged himself into the Atrium, and then stopped short at the sight of a bustle of activity. It was close to midnight and usually the place was deserted.

He reached for his wand when he noticed that the group was busy shooting various spells at the fireplaces. Were they trying to disable the Floo Network?

"Oi, Mr Potter!" one called, lifting a hand. Harry did not relax his hold on his wand as the man walked nearer. "You're working awfully late, you are."

"Hello, Tuck," Harry replied, finally recognizing him as one of the many repairmen employed by the Ministry. "What goes on here?"

"Routine Floo Maintenance. Didn't you get the memo?"

As soon as Tuck mentioned it, Harry vaguely recalled seeing an inter-office memo. He lowered his wand. "Oh. Right."

Tuck guffawed. "Did you think we was criminals?"

Harry grimaced and put his wand away, then yawned hugely. "Sorry, I'm... really tired. Surprised I didn't see you as purple thestrals, really." As Tuck laughed, Harry jerked a thumb at the nearest fireplace. "Okay if I use one?"

Tuck stopped laughing and shook his head. "No, Mr Potter. Whole network is down for at least an hour. Powder residue builds up something fierce. Easiest to take down the whole lot than one by one. You going home?"

Harry nodded. "I was hoping not to Apparate, but if needs must..." He tugged out his wand again and vowed to concentrate .

"That seems dangerous, Mr Potter, if you don't mind me sayin'. Knight Bus should be here in two minutes. They run extra during Floo Maintenance nights."

"The Knight Bus?" Harry had somewhat terrifying memories of the contraption, but he had to admit that anything with a bed in it sounded wonderful. Once his head found a pillow, he doubted he would feel any of the wild movements of the bus. "Thanks. I think I will go that route. Night, Tuck."

"Night, Mr Potter."

A short while later, Harry stood on the street and wondered exactly where the bus picked up. There was no designated bus stop, so he supposed it would just show up wherever he stood. It was raining, of course, but he was too tired to bother with an Umbrella Charm. He tugged up the hood of his Muggle jacket, lifted his wand with a vague thought meant to call the Knight Bus, and waited. At least the cold was waking him up a bit.

The Knight Bus appeared so suddenly it almost seemed to have Apparated. The doors opened and a tall figure hopped out. "Welcome to the Knight Bus, the preferred method of transportation for stranded wizards and witches since..." The man's spiel trailed off and he stared at Harry, who stared right back.

"Malfoy?" Harry asked and then rubbed his eyes, thinking he must be hallucinating, because Draco Malfoy could not possibly be standing before him wearing a purple conductor's uniform and talking to him about the Knight Bus.

"Potter." The reply did little to reassure Harry. It sounded like Malfoy and the next words confirmed it. "Did you lose your wand? Or are you conducting some not-so-secretive investigation into the Knight Bus organization?"

"Shut up, Malfoy," said Harry. "I just want to go home." He walked past Malfoy and up the steps into the bus. Another shock stopped him in his tracks - Blaise Zabini sat in the driver's seat, lounging in a near-prone position in a green leather office chair.

"Evening, Potter," Zabini said and smirked.

"I'm having a nightmare," Harry decided. He shook his head and continued into the bus.

Three of the beds were occupied, one by an indecipherable lump and the other two by a mother and her young son. The mother was sprawled on one bed and the boy bounced on one across the aisle from her like an overexcited puppy.

Harry walked past them all to the bed farthest from the door. He was about to sit down when the bus lurched forward and nearly catapulted him into the rear window.

He caught himself with his hands, swore roundly, and threw himself onto the bed.

"Bad word! Bad word!" the boy said and bounced.

"Shush, Marvin. We'll be at Aunt Sarah's soon." His mother's voice sounded as tired as Harry felt. He lay down and held tightly to the bedclothes as the bus shifted again. He closed his eyes and vaguely wondered why Zabini and Malfoy were driving the Knight Bus.

A throat-clearing sound caused Harry to open his eyes. Malfoy stood next to the bed, looking strangely attractive in his uniform.

"You haven't paid," Malfoy said and stuck out a hand. "That will be eleven sickles unless you want the premium package."

"What are you doing here, Malfoy?" Harry asked as he dug in his front jeans pocket for some coins. Malfoy watched with apparent interest and it occurred to Harry that Malfoy might be watching him fish in his pocket or he might be examining something else in close proximity to Harry's hand.

"I'm collecting your fare, Potter."

"That's not what I meant," Harry said and flushed. Malfoy was probably not checking him out. It was simply Harry's exhaustion projecting impossible ideas. He dropped some coins into Malfoy's hand.

"Do I question your career choices, Potter?" Malfoy carefully counted the coins and added, "I'll just keep the overage as a tip, hmmm? I'll be back with your hot chocolate momentarily."

"No rush," Harry muttered as Malfoy walked away. He shut his eyes and tried not to let the unpredictable movements of the bus throw him out of bed. After a particularly hard jolt nearly tossed him to the floor, he realised sleep would not be an option. He held on as best he could and watched for Malfoy.

He returned momentarily, dodging sliding beds and keeping his footing with the grace of a ballet dancer. He carried a cup of hot chocolate and Harry sat up as he neared. A hot beverage did sound rather good; Harry had eaten a packet of crisps for supper and washed it down with cold tea.

Malfoy held out the mug. Harry tried to take it, but the bed shifted and his fingers only grazed the cup. Malfoy smirked.

"How the hell am I supposed to drink it when we're moving like this?" Harry asked. He snatched the cup when the bed puttered back in the other direction.

"Most people manage a couple of gulps before it splashes all over them," Malfoy replied.

Harry waited until the bus moved onto what seemed to be a flat country lane. He lifted the mug to his lips and drank quickly. It burned the roof of his mouth, but still tasted delicious. Belatedly, he realised Malfoy could have put anything into the drink. He blanched.

"Where do you live, Potter?"

Harry sneered and then winced when a bump caused the hot liquid to leap from the cup and splash his right thigh. "As if I would tell you."

"Then where do you want to get dropped off, you tit?" Malfoy snapped.

"Bad word! Bad word!" the little boy yelled.

"Sorry," Malfoy said without sounding it. "I meant, where would you like to be taken, kind sir? Do you want me to clean that up for you?" Malfoy pulled out his wand and pointed it at Harry's lap. Harry jumped away so quickly the rest of the cocoa spilled onto the bed.

"God, no!"

Malfoy flicked his wand and the brownish stain on the bed disappeared. "Suit yourself."

Harry relaxed as he thrust the empty cup back at Malfoy. "Just take me to the Bronze Pony," he said. He could walk from there. Or Apparate, since it was a very short distance. "It's on -"

"The Bronze Pony?" Malfoy chuckled. "Well, well, Potter. You hear that, Blaise? Potter wants off at the Bronze Pony!"

"You owe me five Galleons!" Blaise yelled back. "And I told you so!"

Harry flushed as he realised the meaning of Malfoy's smirk. "I don't _frequent _the place," he said lamely. "It just happens to be close to my house."

"You keep telling yourself that, Potter," Malfoy said. He turned around, looked back at Harry over his shoulder, and winked. His arse, encased in dark blue trousers, looked delectable. Harry frowned. He hadn't lied, exactly. Just because he had been to the Bronze Pony a time or two did not mean he frequented it. He had simply been curious. Bi-curious. He belatedly wondered how well Malfoy knew the place. While not a gay club, it was definitely gay-friendly and all sorts of shenanigans were permitted on the dance floor.

Harry yawned and looked out the window. The ocean was visible as they rocketed along the edge of a cliff. Harry glanced to the front of the bus, but Malfoy was gone, likely chatting up customers on the upper levels.

"Devon!" Blaise bellowed as the bus slid to a bed-scraping halt.

Harry's tired brain coughed up a crazy idea and he went with it, casting a Sticking Charm on his hip and effectively nailing himself to the bed. He curled up and dozed off, despite the niggling worry that Malfoy might do something to him whilst he was sleeping. He was tired enough not to care.

He awoke to someone shaking him. "Come on, Pottykins. Wakey wakey."

Harry groaned and tried to roll over, but he was caught by his immobilized hip. "Shit," he said thickly. His nap seemed to have left him more tired than ever. His head felt stuffed with down and his throat ached. He desperately wanted a drink of water.

"_Finite Incantatum_," Malfoy said and Harry could move again. He noticed then that Malfoy was sat on the bed right next to him. "Just give us your address, Potter. It's late and you're in no shape to walk home, or to Apparate or whatnot. Blaise and I won't be held responsible for the Great Hero of the World not making it home."

"You won't be held responsible," Harry muttered and then yawned hugely. He knew Malfoy was right. He wanted nothing more than to reach his own lovely bed, crawl into it, and stay there for a minimum of ten hours. "Fine. I live at number twelve Grimmauld Place."

"Number twelve Grimmauld Place, Blaise!"

The bed jerked backwards and hit the wall as the bus took off. They were in the city again, but traffic was light; Harry figured it was very late, indeed.

"Am I the last one?" he asked, turning to look at Malfoy, who was still perched on the bed. Harry swayed towards him as they took a sharp corner. Malfoy did not move away and Harry caught a whiff of Malfoy's cologne.

"No. Mrs Benchley is sleeping off her weekly bridge game Chardonnay overdose upstairs. She lives next door to the bus depot, so she's always the final stop on third Tuesdays."

Harry felt a bit more relaxed, knowing he was not alone on the bus with two former Slytherins. Their presence was still a mystery. Harry opened his mouth to ask about it once more when the bed shifted and then slammed to a halt.

"Grimmauld Place!" Blaise bellowed.

"Here's your stop, Potter. Need some help getting to your bed?" Malfoy's tone was amused, but beneath that Harry thought he caught a hint of seduction, although it was probably his exhaustion playing tricks on him. For all Harry knew, he might have dreamed up this whole thing and was actually asleep across his desk at work.

"I'm fine," Harry replied and crawled from the bed. He had to go around Malfoy, who hadn't bothered to rise from his seated position. It was awkward and Harry's hand slipped when he tried to manoeuvre his feet onto the floor. His jaw smacked into Malfoy's shoulder and his flailing hand caught on Malfoy's slender thigh. An arm wrapped around him and helped him to his feet.

"Easy there, Potter. While I have no objection to your mauling, I don't think you're in any condition to follow through."

Harry felt a blush darken his face and he pushed away from Malfoy, certain the prat was only teasing him because of the Bronze Pony mention earlier. That was all Harry needed, for Malfoy to go to the press with the tale that Harry was a ponce. "Very funny," he muttered and walked to the door. His feet felt like lead weights and he wanted nothing more than to fall into a prone position and sleep for a week.

As he left the bus, he heard Malfoy say, "Thanks for travelling by Knight Bus, Potter. We hope to have adequately fulfilled your needs this evening. Be sure to pop in any time."

Zabini's guffaw filled the air before the door closed and then the Knight Bus disappeared with a bang. Harry staggered into the house and made it to the nearest sofa before he crashed, taking time only to take off his shoes.

His dreams were haunted by Draco Malfoy in an Auror uniform whispering, "Allow me to fulfil your _needs_, Potter."

OOOOOOOO

Harry thought about the Knight Bus off and on for the next week. His workload stabilised and he found little reason to work late. The one evening that he did, he was not tired enough to justify waiting for the bus when the Floo worked perfectly fine. He Flooed home feeling a hint of regret.

He brought it up once with Hermione during their bi-weekly luncheon with Andromeda Tonks. Teddy hunted for gnomes in the garden whilst Ron and Andromeda played a game of chess; she had turned out to be quite a strategist, much to Ron's delight.

"Teddy, mind you don't get bitten!" Hermione warned when Teddy squealed and chased after a startled gnome.

"Did you know Draco Malfoy and Blaise Zabini are driving the Knight Bus?" Harry blurted.

Hermione lifted a brow. "No, I did not. Do I want to ask how you know that they are?"

"What do you mean by that?"

"Nothing. Except I had hoped you were finished with your Draco Malfoy obsession. Operating the Knight Bus seems innocuous enough. Surely you don't think he's up to something?"

Harry scowled. His "obsession" with Malfoy had ended with the war. He had barely thought about the prat during the past five years, for fuck's sake. "I just think it's odd," he snapped.

"I suppose," she said and wrinkled her nose, as if thinking about Malfoy in any context was unpleasant. Harry supposed it was, or it should have been. For some reason, Harry kept thinking about his hand on Malfoy's thigh, and the way Malfoy had smelled, and the way he had looked in his conductor's uniform... and the way Harry's dream had put Malfoy in an Auror uniform... He shook his head to remove the images. "Teddy, don't you dare touch that vile creature! Come back here!"

Hermione hurried off to rescue Teddy from the gnome (or vice versa) and Harry shelved the topic. He needed to forget about Draco Malfoy.

It was easier said than done, and by Thursday next his plan to do just that was abandoned.

OOOOOOOO

Harry watched as McCloud manoeuvred the Stunned, floating prisoner down the long hallway to the incarceration chambers. He signed off on the appropriate paperwork and nodded when Nickelby grinned at him and asked, "Long night, yeah?"

"A very long night," Harry agreed. "I'm saving the bloody report until morning. I need a hot bath and a soft bed."

"Aye, and a softer bedmate, if you're lucky." Nickelby guffawed. "Oh, and mind you don't take the Floo. There was an incident earlier. Some bowtruckle-brain unleashed a mad spell in the Atrium. Turned the whole place into a swamp full o' poison gas and dangerous plants. Smith and them from Magical Reversal is still working on setting it to rights."

Harry wrinkled his nose. "I'm tired of Apparating." He jerked a thumb towards where McCloud and the prisoner had gone. "Bastard led me a merry chase tonight."

"There's always the Knight Bus."

Harry inhaled sharply. Despite his curiosity and his recurring dreams featuring Malfoy, he had nearly forgotten it in the routine of his day-to-day job.

Thus, he found himself some minutes later standing on the street once more awaiting pickup. It was a clear, unseasonably balmy night and Harry unbuttoned his robes whilst he waited. After a twelve minute wait, the bus popped into existence and shuddered to a halt.

To Harry's surprise, loud music spilled through the door the moment it opened. Malfoy staggered out and nearly bowled Harry over before clinging to him. Harry was instantly alert, thinking something had happened. He curled an arm around Malfoy and pulled out his wand.

"Are you all right?" he asked.

Malfoy straightened and beamed at Harry, as though he were an amazing and welcome sight. "Harry Potter!" Malfoy yelled. He turned in Harry's grip and called into the bus. "Harry Potter, everyone! The glorious and most puiy... pubescent...puuu... What's that fucking word, Blaise?"

"Puissant?" Blaise offered and Malfoy snapped his fingers, or at least he made an attempt at it. Harry realised Malfoy was drunk off his arse.

"Thassit!" Malfoy crowed. He frowned. "Wha' was I saying?"

"Harry Potter!" someone yelled helpfully.

"Right! Harry Potter, his most _puissant _and amazing saviorship, himself, is gracing us with his glorious and august presence. Truly it is a remarkable night! Do you prefer that we all salute or bow?"

"Shut up, Malfoy," Harry said, flushing. He started to move away, realizing that Apparition was preferable to being made a mockery of by a drunken bus full of people led by Malfoy. A pale hand shot out and gripped his elbow.

"Come along, Harry, and I will introduce you to everyone." Malfoy pulled him towards the bus. When Harry tried to give him the fare, he added, "Keep it. I'm sure the company will earn more than enough by mentioning your patronage in radio ads for the next decade or so."

Too surprised by Malfoy's use of his first name to resist, Harry allowed himself to be tugged onto the bus. A bottle of Ogden's was thrust into Harry's left hand and his right was shaken vigorously as Malfoy guided him along the aisle, and kept him upright as the bus took off again.

"And this is Mallory Thompkins. Keep a sharp eye on her because she has a penchant for pinching arse cheeks, shame on you, Mallory, you are older than my mum, honestly." Malfoy was grinning, despite his severe tone. A smiling witch with a Hermione-esque mop of silver-shot dark hair grinned at Harry and pumped his hand.

"Oh, be off with you, Draco," she said, "I'm not too old to appreciate a fine bit of manflesh when I sees it. It's very pleased I am to meet you, Mr Potter, you 'andsome devil."

The bus was nearly devoid of beds, with only a few scattered at the back, and empty of bodies, Harry noted. Everyone was upright and holding assorted bottles and glasses, clinging to one another when the bus made abrupt turns or stops.

To Harry's relief, no one fawned on him excessively. Most of the passengers were inebriated, but the atmosphere was relaxed and festive. Harry accepted a second bottle and nodded at a young couple who held tightly to one another as the bus half-tipped, forcing Harry to brace his feet and grab at a dangling leather handle to keep from falling.

"How do they manage not to spill?" Harry asked, eyeing a pair of witches who held large wineglasses.

"Practice," Malfoy replied.

"Do you do this often?" Harry asked, thinking surely there must be regulations against that sort of thing.

"Occasionally," Malfoy said, evasively, in Harry's opinion.

"How long have you and Zabini been operating a Knight Bus?"

"Come along, Potter." Without waiting for a response, Malfoy made his way to the second level. Harry admired his arse as they climbed. Once on the mid-level, the introductions continued until Harry was roped into a conversation with an ex-Quidditch player named Simon.

Malfoy patted Harry on the shoulder, gave him a somewhat loopy smile, and staggered off to disappear into the happy crowd. Harry thought about following, but Simon launched into a tale about a World Cup game several years prior and Harry found himself fascinated, despite feeling slightly abandoned.

Time spun away and Harry did not see Malfoy again until several ales and Quidditch stories later. Malfoy tapped Harry on the shoulder. "Your stop is next, Hero Boy."

"Thanks for letting me chin wag, Harry," Simon said. "If you ride tomorrow, I'll bring you that broom I mentioned. Got to take the Knight Bus until my Floo is repaired."

Harry nodded; Simon had spoken of an original Cleansweep, quite valuable now, that he wanted Harry to see. "I'll try."

Malfoy guided Harry to the door with a grip on his elbow and then gave Harry a wink as he stepped away from the bus. "Can you make it home, Potter, or do you need some help?"

Harry nodded, stifling his disappointment at the gesture. Would Malfoy seriously have escorted him home? He doubted it.

"Goodnight, Chosen One!" Malfoy yelled and waved at Harry through the open door before the bus banged out of sight. A chorus of, "Goodnight, Mister Potter!" followed Malfoy words and Harry smiled in bemusement as he drained the ale bottle he still held.

It had been a very unusual night.

OOOOOOOO

Harry rode the Knight Bus the next night, although he was not completely sure of his motives. On the one hand, he had practically promised Simon he would be on, but on the other, he was looking forward to seeing Malfoy.

"You again, Potter?" Blaise bellowed through the door when it skid to a stop.

"Where is Malfoy?" Harry asked and then winced.

Blaise grinned hugely, as though reading far too much into Harry's simple question. He jerked a thumb over his shoulder. "In the back. Sleeping off last night."

Harry stepped aboard and reflexively braced himself against the jolt of movement. It seemed he was getting used to the bus and finding it easier to navigate without constantly being thrown to one side or another. The lights on the bus were dimmer than usual, more conducive to a sleeping environment that the bright, loud party atmosphere of the previous night. Several of the beds were occupied.

Malfoy's blond hair was easily visible on the pillow of the rearmost bed. Harry made his way there and was shocked to see Malfoy wearing pyjamas instead of his usual purple uniform. They were such a dark silk that only the glimmer of passing lights showed the fabric to be blue instead of black.

Harry stood awkwardly for a moment, watching Malfoy's chest rise and fall in even breaths. He looked peaceful and almost innocent with his eyes - and mouth - shut.

As if called by Harry's sardonic thought, Malfoy opened his eyes. They fixed on Harry with a sleepy lack of intensity and then a smile curved Malfoy's lips. Harry's throat felt suddenly dry, as if he had been given the gift of seeing Malfoy's just-waking-up look. Then awareness seemed to register and Malfoy sat up abruptly. He put a hand to his hair.

"Potter! What are you doing here?"

"Um." Malfoy's alarm was disconcerting. "Simon asked me to look at his broom."

A long pause followed Harry's words and Malfoy's stare melted into amusement before a guffaw rumbled from his throat, followed by a wicked chuckle. "I'll bet he did."

Harry blushed to his roots. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Malfoy swung his feet out from beneath the thin blanket. They were bare, Harry noticed absently, so pale as to be almost white, with delicate-looking toes and perfectly trimmed nails. "Never mind, Potter. No need to get your knickers in a bunch."

Harry glared at him. Simon wasn't gay, or at least he hadn't seemed gay to Harry during their nothing-but-Quidditch talk the previous night. If Simon was gay, was that why Malfoy had left Harry in his company? To confirm his suspicions? Harry shook his head. Likely he was reading far too much into Malfoy's cryptic commentary.

"Is Simon aboard?" Harry asked.

"I don't know. Why didn't you ask Blaise?"

Harry shot a glance towards the front of the bus. Why hadn't he? "And miss an opportunity to wake you from your beauty sleep?" he countered.

Malfoy snorted.

"Why are you sleeping, anyway? Isn't it bad form to sleep on the job?"

It was Malfoy's turn to glare. "Are you going to report me? I wasn't sleeping, I was resting. I might have imbibed a bit too much last night." He raised his voice. "Blaise! Is Simon on?" Several passengers opened their eyes and gave Malfoy irritated looks.

"Upstairs!" Blaise yelled back.

Malfoy cocked a brow at Harry, who grinned. He gave Malfoy a salute and turned to look for the ex-Quidditch player, leaving Malfoy and his silk pyjamas behind.

Simon did, indeed, have the antique broom, and made no advances, overt or otherwise, that would cause Harry to question his sexuality. Simon reminded Harry of Oliver Wood, with no room for anything in his life other than Quidditch.

"You should keep it," Simon said, shaking Harry out of his Malfoy-centred thoughts.

"What? No, I can't do that. It's far too valuable."

"You're still a young man, Harry. I have no children and never will. My brother is a bloody ne'er-do-well and he'd sell the damn thing for a pint of ale. At least you'll take care of it and maybe one day have a son or daughter to pass it on to."

Harry smiled and noted smugly that whatever his orientation, Simon hadn't picked up on Harry's, despite Malfoy's innuendos hinting otherwise. "It's... thank you. I promise to take excellent care of it."

Simon beamed and clapped him on the shoulder as Harry re-wrapped the broom in protective cloth and bound it with several spells.

"Are we giving gifts to the Chosen One?" a familiar voice asked behind Harry. He turned to see Malfoy lounging at the top of the stairs. "I seem to have left mine at home, although I might be able to... improvise."

Harry flushed and tore his eyes away, instantly thinking of several inappropriate ways for Malfoy to _improvise_.

"Put some clothes on, Malfoy, you're making this bus look like a brothel," Simon called jovially.

Malfoy sniffed haughtily. "You couldn't afford me if it was."

Simon guffawed. "That I don't doubt."

"Your stop is next, Potter."

Harry nodded. "Thanks for the broom, Simon. I'll take care of it."

"I'll bet you say that to all the boys," Malfoy called, voice muffled as he tripped back down the steps. Harry sighed heavily as Simon chuckled.

"He's something else, isn't he, that Malfoy?"

"Yeah," Harry agreed. Something else, indeed. Just what, exactly, Harry hadn't decided.

~TBC~


	2. Chapter 2

Harry didn't think too much about it when he intentionally worked late on the following Friday, and stood waiting for the Knight Bus even though the Floo would have been quicker.

_I just want a drink_, he rationalized, _and don't want to have one alone_.

He ignored the fleeting idea that perhaps he wanted to see Malfoy, as well.

To Harry's dismay, the face looming at him when the bus slid to a halt was not Malfoy's. A young man, barely more than a teenager, dropped from the step and scratched at his neck with lazy fingers.

"Welcome to the Knight Bus, the finest transportation in all of Britain for the stranded witch or wizard. Step aboard, kind sir, and we shall rush you to your destination." The words were uttered in a flat monotone. The boy had likely memorized it from a prompt card. He yawned and fluttered an impatient hand towards the bus when Harry made no move to board.

"Where is Malfoy?" Harry asked.

The boy shrugged. "He don't work Fridays."

"Or Saturdays," the driver offered loudly from inside the bus. He looked like a grey-haired cousin of Ernie, the first Knight Bus driver Harry had ever met.

"I see," Harry said and boarded the bus. He doled out his coins to the yawning boy and sat on a bed, watching the scenery flash by until his stop was reached.

He told himself he was not at all disappointed to have missed Malfoy.

OOOOOOOO

Harry decided not to ride the Knight Bus anymore. He had found it harder to justify his strange urge to ride during the light of day and came to the conclusion that his "Malfoy obsession" had simply not been satisfied during Hogwarts.

_Malfoy is not "up to something,"_ he told himself. _Just leave it alone, Harry_.

He threw himself into his cases and tried not to think about Draco Malfoy in a purple uniform, smiling at him and holding a drink, or the feel of his thigh under Harry's hand.

Not thinking about Malfoy became easier during the next week and a half, when a high-profile case took up most of Harry's time. He spent several days in northeast Scotland tracking a rogue werewolf, followed by a day in St Mungo's healing a long scratch on his forearm given to him by the half-transformed creature. The ordeal left him battling nightmares of Fenrir Greyback and Voldemort for three long, sleepless nights.

During lunch with Hermione, she asked about Malfoy and Harry blinked at her and asked, "Who?" before remembering that he had spoken to her after his first day riding the Knight Bus. It seemed like months had passed instead of two weeks since Malfoy had tipsily waved at him from the door of the bus.

Hermione's approving nod warmed him and the conversation turned to a spell Hermione was researching.

_See_, Harry thought to himself smugly as he listened to her with half an ear, _not obsessed_.

OOOOOOOO

"I'm going home, mate!" Ron yelled over the din. "Are you coming?"

Harry shook his head, barely paying attention to his best friend as he laughed at O'Riley, who was doing his patented imitation of the Minister. "No, you go along. I'll get home all right."

"Well, don't Apparate. Hermione will have your head if you Splinch yourself, not to mention Beauregard."

"No worries. I'll take the Floo. G'night." He waved vaguely at Ron and burst out laughing again as O'Riley clopped a few steps and dropped his arm around the shoulders of one of the other patrons and asked with a leer, "Why do they call you an _Under_secretary, anyway?"

Ron snorted a laugh and disappeared into the crowd. The place was packed for a Wednesday night, mostly full of his co-workers celebrating the successful conclusion of the werewolf case. The man that had attacked Harry had gone rogue because of an experimental potion given to him by an unscrupulous apothecarist. It hadn't been his fault at all and Harry was glad he hadn't hurt the man, despite the stinging wound on his arm.

An hour later, Harry wished he had left with Ron. He could barely stand and thought Floo travel might be difficult with the way his words were slurring each time he tried to speak.

"Wha' the hell was in tha' blue drink?" he asked, leaning on O'Riley, who no longer made jokes, probably due to the greenish shade of his face.

"Don' say the word _drink_," O'Riley said in a stage whisper and shuddered.

Harry's stomach roiled a bit at the very idea of nausea. The thought of travelling at all made it worse.

"Fuck the Floo," Conner said. "I'm taking the Knight Bus. Probably be sick halfway with all the turns, but at least I'll get home in one piece."

Harry's queasiness departed as he lifted his head. The Knight Bus. Of course! Malfoy would take care of him.

"I'll come with you," Harry said and followed Conner outside, grabbing his cloak along the way. The weather had turned wretched, spitting rain carried on cold lashes of wind. Conner raised his wand and shot up sparks whilst Harry huddled in his cloak.

The Knight Bus appeared moments later, much to Harry's surprise. The doors flew open.

"Welcome aboard, gents!" Zabini bellowed through the door. Conner climbed onto the bus and Harry glanced around as the doors closed.

"Where is Malfoy?" he asked.

"I believe he's not speaking to you at the moment, Potter. Hold tight."

Harry grabbed reflexively for an overhead handle and swayed as the bus shot forward. The motion made his stomach lurch unpleasantly. "Not speaking to me? Why?"

"Ask him, why don't you? I'm not paid to consort with the passengers."

"He's aboard, then?"

Zabini sighed heavily, even though he did not seem overly busy at the moment, driving the bus with two fingers on the wheel and his legs stretched out and crossed before him. "Upstairs, Potter."

Harry started for the stairs, stomach churning even more unpleasantly at the thought of Malfoy being angry with him. What had he done to warrant the silent treatment, other than staying away? Surely Malfoy would not mind that? It wasn't as though they were particularly close. Not even friends, despite the fact that they'd got on all right during their last few encounters.

Malfoy was on the top level, wearing the purple uniform once more and staring through a window with his arms crossed. Only two other passengers occupied the nearby beds, one middle-aged wizard in bright yellow robes clutching an enormous Kneazle in his arms - both he and the feline appeared to be dozing - and a sleeping figure nearly invisible beneath the blanket.

Harry swallowed and headed in Malfoy's direction, stumbling a couple of times and wishing for a Sobering Potion. He probably was not up to dealing with Malfoy at the moment, but that realisation was vague and overshadowed by determination.

Harry strode forward, stumbled when the bus jolted, and crushed Malfoy against the window. He took note of the hard body, Malfoy's masculine scent, and the delicate softness of his hair as his nose pushed into the blonde locks, and then the breath left his lungs with an undignified huff when Malfoy's elbow jabbed beneath his ribcage.

"Potter! You arse. Get off of me. You smell like a brewery."

Harry could not quite manage the "off of" request, despite the elbow still pressed firmly against his abdomen. "Mmmmm," Harry agreed, burying his nose more deeply in Malfoy's hair and breathing deeply.

"What are you doing here? I thought you were no longer riding." Malfoy's voice sounded sharp and his elbow gave another dig.

Malfoy's scent was intoxicating. Why hadn't Harry ever noticed before? Perhaps he had, but he hadn't been able to admit it until Malfoy's hair was tickling his nose. "Missed you," Harry mumbled.

"_What did you say?_"

Harry was silent, wondering what he had said and trying to dredge up something that would soften Malfoy's harsh tone. It was much nicer when Malfoy was teasing him and making inappropriate suggestions. Harry could think of a few inappropriate suggestions right now. He curled his fingers more tightly around Malfoy's hip bones, thrilling at Malfoy's slenderness.

"Will you please stop _breathing _on me? In fact, you should probably step away if you would like to keep your testicles intact."

Hearing the word _testicles _had the opposite effect of Malfoy's intention. Harry pressed even closer. Malfoy shoved him. Harry staggered back and nearly fell on his arse, but his reflexes sent him tripping awkwardly across the width of the bus to sprawl over a bed instead. He bounced to his feet with an "I-meant-to-do-that" grin.

"You're so mean," Harry said, striving for serious and failing, even though he wasn't certain why he was so giddy. He had been drunk before, but he could not recall feeling such euphoria. He suspected it had something to do with Malfoy and the way his grey eyes flashed as they were now.

"_I am mean?_" Malfoy's voice was iron.

Harry nodded, pleased.

"I am not the one that pretended to be kind, who acted as though he wanted to be friends or something, and then abandoned me. What would you call that, exactly?"

Harry's smile disappeared. "I'm sorry." He crept closer and spoke in a slightly louder tone. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to... do that. To make you think I wanted to be your friend and then vanish. Because I do. Want to be your friend, I mean." As he spoke, Harry continued to move closer, until he stood near enough to reach out and touch Malfoy, if he dared.

He dared.

Harry hooked two fingers into the pocket of Malfoy's uniform, close to his hipbone, and tugged him forward. Malfoy scowled.

"Mind the uniform, Potter," Malfoy said, but his voice was not as cold as it had been. It sounded almost like a breathy whisper. Harry moved even closer.

"You smell so good," he murmured, lowering his head and breathing in the scent of Malfoy's neck before dropping his head to Malfoy's shoulder and sinking unceremoniously into oblivion.

OOOOOOOO

Malfoy's smell was all around him. Harry breathed deeply and stretched, feeling almost like he swam in a sea of Malfoy-scented water, warm and soft and cosy. And not a little erotic. Harry's cock was half-hard and thickened a bit more as Harry moved again. Something glided over the head of his cock like silken fabric.

It took him a moment to realise it actually was silken fabric. Harry blinked his eyes open, expecting the dream-smell to dissipate, but it remained, almost sharpening as he took in unfamiliar surroundings.

Harry sat up with a start of surprise. Where the hell was he?

It became obvious immediately, of course. The familiar cologne pervading his senses was the first clue, and the second was a photo of Narcissa Malfoy holding the hand of a thin, pointy-looking blond child. Harry stared at it for a moment, marvelling that Malfoy's spoiled pout, once so irritating, now looked almost precious. He had been an adorable, if rather bratty-looking child.

Harry took in the rest of the room with a quick glance. Most of it was white. All of the visible fabric in the room was either white or a pale shade of cream. The furnishings were white also, offset with just enough pale-coloured wood to keep the place from seeming stark.

Harry shifted, thinking to push the blankets aside and climb out of bed, but the movement startled him into the realisation that he was completely naked. A spike of anxiety coursed through him and turned his stomach muscles into hard knots.

He was clearly in Malfoy's bed. With nothing on. How had he...?

He looked around frantically for his clothing, but saw nothing that resembled apparel, not even a dressing gown or his work robes. His second panicked quest was for his wand. It was also nowhere in evidence.

Harry swore softly and gripped a handful of the sheet, intent on wrapping it around himself whilst he ventured out, but the door opened. He twitched violently, as though caught in an illicit act.

"Finally awake, Potter? I thought you might sleep all day." Malfoy's voice was cheerful and he strolled across the room to tug at a snowy curtain. The resulting spill of sunlight caused Harry to fling up a warding hand. Pain gonged through his skull like church bells and he was forcibly reminded of all the alcohol he had imbibed the previous night.

He shielded his eyes and groaned. "Must you?"

Malfoy chuckled. "Sorry. Would you like a hangover potion?"

"Do you have one?" Harry asked hopefully.

"Of course. Let me get you one." Malfoy moved towards the door.

"Wait!"

Malfoy paused partway across the room. He lifted a brow. He was fully dressed, wearing some casual-looking trousers and a loose white shirt.

"Where are my clothes?" Harry asked and felt a blush crawl through his entire body. His morning wood had not diminished at all, not even with Malfoy's presence. If anything, it had grown even more. _Traitor_, Harry thought to it absently.

"Not yet back from being cleaned, I'm afraid," Malfoy replied. He changed direction and walked to a white wardrobe cabinet decorated with an ornate mirror. He swung open the mirrored door and nearly disappeared inside, returning after a moment with something clutched in his hand.

He approached Harry and tossed the object onto the bed - a length of shimmering white cloth.

"You can wear that until your robes are finished. I will be back in a moment with your potion. Would you like some tea?"

"Yes, please," Harry replied and then Malfoy nodded and went out.

Harry snatched up the cloth the moment that Malfoy departed. The feel of it was not encouraging, like a cross between spider's web and liquid. Harry slid out of bed and wrapped it around himself, finding it to be some sort of dressing gown. A very thin dressing gown. Magical, of course, because he was instantly enveloped in warmth, but he felt nearly nude wearing it. The white fabric seemed to cling to Harry like a second skin, flowing down over his curves and edges like a cascade of water.

To his dismay, his half-hard cock was more highlighted than hidden. Harry pressed his palm to it and willed it to "stand down, damn it" but between the pressure and the knowledge that Malfoy's soft, silky dressing gown was caressing it, his traitorous erection grew even larger.

"Shit," Harry muttered and hopped back into the bed in order to use the blankets as a shield. He was both mortified and curious at the knowledge that Malfoy must have undressed him. But why had Malfoy taken all of his clothes? Surely Harry had not needed his _pants _removed? He groaned. The vision of Malfoy peeling away his clothing had finished the job; he was fully erect. Fuck.

Malfoy returned before Harry could consider any of his options. He had only got as far as _find my wand and Apparate the hell out of here _before the door opened. Malfoy strode forward and held out a vial of blue liquid.

Harry got as far as pulling the cap, anticipating the sweet relief of the hangover potion dissipating his headache, before his instincts kicked in and he realised he was about to drink something given to him by someone who had no reason to wish him well. He paused, holding it awkwardly.

Malfoy sank down on the edge of the bed and planted one hand on the bed, effectively trapping Harry's legs.

"What's the matter, Potter?" he asked in a soft voice. "Don't you trust me? Not even after last night?"

Harry's mouth opened, but no sound emerged. He struggled to remember anything about the night before, but it was all haze and darkness. He vaguely remembered talking to Malfoy aboard the Knight Bus, but the details were elusive and fragmented. Malfoy's eyes seemed huge and sincere, clear grey pools full of promise.

"Last... last night?" Harry asked hoarsely, forcing the words through his suddenly dust-dry throat. Malfoy's nearness and his hand, dropping to Harry's knee, was not causing his pesky erection to diminish a jot. Harry's heart rate turned into a jagged staccato.

Malfoy's lips pursed into a pout. "You don't remember?" His fingers trailed over Harry's knee, warm even through the layers of blanket, sheet, and dressing gown. He leaned closer and Harry struggled to remember anything about the previous night. Had they _actually_...? Harry thought his heart might pound out of his chest as Malfoy's hand moved from his knee upwards, squeezing Harry's thigh and gliding much closer to the source of Harry's current embarrassment.

And then Malfoy sat back with a wicked grin. "Only joking," Malfoy said, "but, Merlin, you should see your face, Potter."

Astonishment left Harry gaping like a landed fish for a moment and then his face flamed. "You... you absolute _arse_."

Malfoy chuckled and squeezed Harry's thigh once more. "Interesting to note, however, that you didn't seem particularly horrified. Perhaps there is yet hope."

Before Harry could fully process his words, Malfoy got to his feet and moved away. "I assure you the potion is nothing more than an ordinary hangover remedy, but if you prefer to suffer, then so be it. I'll make you some breakfast, unless you prefer to borrow some of my clothing and escape. I can have your robes sent around when they return from cleaning."

Harry looked down at the potion still in his hand. With a decisive frown, he lifted it to his lips and drank. The relief was almost instantaneous and he closed his eyes as the headache ebbed away. Malfoy hadn't lied.

"Where is my wand?" Harry asked.

"Bedside table."

Harry sat the empty vial atop the indicated table and opened the drawer. His wand nestled within, resting atop a stack of parchment, a quill, several coins of various denominations, and assorted bits and bobs.

"Thanks," Harry said as he picked up the comforting length of wood. "Um. I could eat," he admitted, surprising himself by looking forward to it. His stomach rumbled. "Ah... where is your loo?"

Malfoy jerked his chin. "Through that door, there. "I'll be in the kitchen when you've finished."

With that, Malfoy went out. As soon as the door closed, Harry bolted from the bed and into the bathroom. It took several long minutes of thinking about trolls, dementors, and Dolores Umbridge before his erection diminished enough that he could relieve his bladder. He hoped it would stand down long enough to survive a breakfast with Draco Malfoy.

He belted the flimsy dressing gown around himself, despairing at the ridiculous fabric, and used a spell to clean his teeth. His hair was beyond help, but his wet his fingers and combed through it, patting down some of the worst bits until they didn't stick out quite so badly.

Harry ventured from the bedroom to find himself in a long hallway with several doors, all closed. He followed the smell of bacon down the hall, wincing at the cold bits of wooden flooring not covered in carpet. He wondered if Malfoy had slippers he could borrow. He passed through a living room decorated in dark wood and rich green fabrics - finally, the expected green - and located the kitchen through an ornate archway.

Malfoy was sat at a long table, holding a steaming cup in both hands. The table was laden with dishes and bowls of assorted foods, from bacon to porridge and all manner of things between. Harry sat down and smiled at Malfoy, who had watched him cross the kitchen with an unreadable expression.

"This looks amazing. Did you cook?"

Malfoy snorted into his cup. "Afraid not, Potter. The house-elves won't live here, but they'll pop in from the Manor to ensure than I am eating properly."

Harry reached for the toast and then helped himself to generous helpings of beans, bacon, and sausage. Malfoy nibbled at a piece of toast. Harry looked at him curiously.

"I've been up for some time. Already ate. Dig in."

Harry nodded and ate, trying not to make orgasmic noises as he did so, even though the food was brilliant and he was, apparently, starving. He recalled he hadn't eaten much the night before, prior to drinking far too much with his work mates.

"Tell me," he asked when Malfoy refilled his teacup and then topped off Harry's, "Was it absolutely necessary to remove all of my clothes?" The question made him blush, but he was curious and Malfoy's answering pink cheeks warmed him.

"You had, apparently, spilled a large quantity of ale into your lap at some point," Malfoy replied, "If the smell was any indication. I thought you might prefer not to sleep in it." Malfoy smiled and then added, "And I will not apologise for being curious."

Harry's blush deepened and he nodded, somewhat relieved that Malfoy had a plausible excuse, other than simply wanting to disconcert Harry.

"You certainly have nothing to complain about. By the way," Malfoy added and gave Harry a wink.

Harry coughed and looked away, poking at a lone bean nervously. "Thanks. I think."

"No work today?" Malfoy asked. "I debated waking you earlier."

Harry shook his head. "Ministry holiday. Eldritch Diggory's birthday. It's one reason we all went out last night."

"What will you do with the rest of your day?" Malfoy asked. "Go home and sleep it off?"

Harry grinned wryly. "Well, I would have before that potion, but now I'm feeling pretty good. It's the best hangover remedy I've ever had. Where did you get it?"

"Blaise. I lost interest in potions after Hogwarts, but he still dabbles frequently."

Harry blanched. He probably would not have taken the potion if he'd known Blaise Zabini had concocted it. Trusting Malfoy had been a stretch; he wasn't sure he could extend the same confidence to Zabini. Malfoy must have misconstrued Harry's expression.

"Oh, he isn't home now. He went to his mother's today."

Harry blinked. "Zabini lives here? With you?" A flare of something hot and potentially ugly reared up in Harry's chest. He had known they worked together, but he had not guessed they also lived together. He wondered how close their relationship was and decided he was not going to ask under any circumstances.

"Yes. I still spend most weekends at the Manor, of course, but since I am gainfully employed now, I have found it best to dwell closer to my place of employment. That way my father can pretend I'm not working, but am instead debauching the witches of the world and plotting to marry and generate the next Malfoy heir." Malfoy snorted. "He has a better chance of extracting an heir from a Hogwarts merman."

Harry's curiosity about Zabini warred with his vengeful pleasure at anything that would cause Lucius Malfoy pain. "Why?" he asked.

Malfoy leaned across the table towards him. "Do I really need to spell it out, Potter? Let me just say I took a great deal of pleasure from peeling you out of those robes last night. _N'est-ce pas_?"

Harry flushed and looked down at his plate. He had guessed, of course, and hoped, but having confirmation of Malfoy's preferences opened Harry's mind to ideas he had barely allowed himself to consider even whilst wanking.

"And Zabini?" Harry asked, giving in to the coil of jealousy and recognizing it for what it was.

Malfoy shrugged. "Blaise will sleep with anything with a pulse."

Harry took a bite of sausage to prevent another question from slipping out. The statement had not exactly answered Harry's question and he had to accept the possibility that Malfoy and Zabini were more than casual roommates. And it was none of Harry's business, after all. He chewed and swallowed, even though the meal had lost all flavour.

"Do you want to spend the day with me?" Malfoy asked in an uncharacteristic rush. "I was not planning on doing much. Shopping, maybe, and having lunch at a new café near the Ministry. You can come with me, if you like."

Harry goggled at him. "You want to spend time with me? Why?"

Malfoy did not look at him, instead tipping his cup as though to study the tea leaves. Was he searching for portents? "You aren't horrible company," Malfoy said and his gaze flashed up to fix on Harry. "When you're not being a prat, I mean."

"When am I ever a prat?" Harry demanded, unable to hold back a smile at the incongruity.

Malfoy waved a hand at him. "I do not have the time to list every specific instance. Are you game or not?"

"I can't parade around town in my Ministry robes, if they should ever come back from cleaning, that is."

As if called by Harry's words, a house-elf popped up next to the table, arms laden with a bundle of folded red fabric.

"You can wear the trousers, at least. And you can borrow one of my shirts. You're not so muscular that you'll burst the seams." Malfoy cocked a head and looked at him critically. "At least, I don't think so."

Harry tried not to remember that Malfoy had seen him naked. _Down, boy_, he admonished his too-interested cock.

"All right," he agreed with a grin.

~TBC~


	3. Chapter 3

Thirty minutes later, outfitted in clean trousers and a borrowed mint-green shirt, Harry took Malfoy's arm and allowed him to Apparate them to Diagon Alley. He could not quite believe he was _shopping _with Draco Malfoy.

"Where are we going?"

"The apothecary first. I need to replenish some of Blaise's potion ingredients and we're getting low on Floo Powder. And then to Quality Quidditch, I think. Fancy looking at some brooms, Potter?"

"That never gets old," Harry admitted. He had already admired the latest models, but it wouldn't hurt to stop in and get the latest gossip about how they were performing.

Harry poked through the shelves whilst Malfoy argued with the proprietor of the apothecary. In fact, Malfoy argued so long and so well that Harry feared the old man might hex him just to get him to leave the shop, but at last Malfoy seemed satisfied and the apothecarist shook his head and leaned over the counter to clap Malfoy on the shoulder.

"You are a shrewd bargainer, Mr Malfoy. I am heartily pleased that there are no more of you. Give my regards to your mother, won't you?"

"Indeed I shall. You can have those sent round to my flat when they arrive. Have an excellent afternoon."

"Be off with you, scamp! Good day, Mr Potter." The man waved and then turned away to assist another customer. Harry followed Malfoy out of the shop.

"That was... impressive," Harry admitted.

Malfoy snorted. "That old reprobate. He always increases his prices by thirty percent when he sees me coming. He thinks he's bloody clever."

"Remind me to bring you along next time I need to negotiate something."

"At your service, Mister Potter," Malfoy said with a smile that melted Harry's insides just a bit.

He cleared his throat. "Where to now?"

"Flourish and Blotts?"

Harry groaned. "Oh Merlin, not more books. Hermione drags me there at least once a month and then spends hours browsing."

"Oh no! Not once a month! The horror!"

Harry smacked him on the arm. "Shut up! Some of us don't particularly care for reading."

Malfoy shook his head as if saddened. "It broadens the mind, Potter. You should try it."

Harry gave him a bemused grin. He had once assumed Malfoy to be utterly close-minded. If reading books was responsible for his change of heart, then perhaps Harry should consider giving the hobby a chance. "Is that why you started conducting the Knight Bus? Broadening your horizons?"

Malfoy shrugged. "Perhaps you should ride along tonight."

"Ride along? On the Knight Bus?"

"No, Potter, on my broom." Malfoy snickered, whether at his sarcasm or the innuendo, Harry wasn't sure. "Of course on the Knight Bus. For the whole route. Maybe you'll gain some insight."

"Why can't you just tell me?"

"Where is the fun in that?"

Mercurial, Harry decided, grasping at a word Hermione had used to describe a perplexing co-worker. Mercurial and slightly maddening. That was Malfoy.

"All right," Harry said, surprising himself for the second time that day. "If we haven't killed one another by then. I'll ride along."

"Excellent," Malfoy said and then nodded towards the bookshop. "Now, let us find you something to read. Surely you have some latent brain cells in there that could use some awakening."

"You are not making it easy to spend time with you!" Harry called as he broke into a trot to keep up with Malfoy's long strides.

OOOOOOOO

To Harry's surprise, the day passed without either of them coming to blows. Malfoy turned out to be interesting company, far better than he had been on the Knight Bus. He seemed to delight in shopping, especially if said shopping involved coaxing, wheedling, or demanding the best price from whatever hapless sales clerk assisted him.

"Why do you do that?" Harry asked, laughing when Malfoy admired a clear crystal cube he had purchased from a small gift shop Harry had never noticed before. "You only saved twelve Knuts on that deal."

"It's the principle of the thing, Potter. The fact remains that I was not bested."

Harry held his tongue. It was a _thing _with Malfoy, he had noticed, being bested. He nodded at the cube. "What does it do?"

"You've never seen a Mood Cube?"

Harry shook his head. Even after all his years in the wizarding world, there were still multitudes of things that other wizards took for granted that Harry had never heard of.

"It's not much. A silly bit of magic. It absorbs emotions and changes colour with your moods. See?" Malfoy held the cube out to Harry. It had been clear before, but now held a pale blue glow.

"What does blue mean?"

Malfoy shrugged. "Happiness, I suppose. Contentment?" He held out the cube and Harry opened his palm for Malfoy to drop it into. The blue glow winked out for a moment and then slowly returned, tinted with violet.

"I guess I'm happy, too." Harry smiled and felt himself blushing as he gave back the cube, not willing to acknowledge what the violet signified.

Malfoy tucked the cube into a pocket of his robes. "Time for lunch."

OOOOOOOO

Harry stood outside the door to Malfoy's flat and yawned widely before he knocked on the portal. After lunch, which had been pleasant enough with only two interruptions by people asking for Harry's autograph, Malfoy had suggested that Harry go home and take a nap before meeting at eight o'clock at his flat. If Harry planned to ride along on the Knight Bus, he would be staying awake most of the night.

Sleep had eluded him for at least an hour, but he had finally drifted into a fitful sleep, only to be awakened by his alarm. By the time he'd crawled out of bed, he'd only had time for a rush shower and a sandwich before dressing and Apparating to Malfoy's place.

Blaise Zabini opened the door. "Hey, Potter," he said without even a hint of the smirk Harry had expected. "There's tea in the kitchen. Draco should be ready soon. He has to primp, you know?"

"Thanks," Harry said. He felt a bit awkward walking into the kitchen alone, but less awkward than trying to make conversation with Zabini. Harry poured water from a Self-heating Kettle into a tall mug and shoved a pinch of tea leaves into the ornate metal ball. He dropped it into the mug and watched as brown spirals ebbed out in slow swirls.

"Is that for me?"

Harry turned to see Malfoy adjusting the cuffs on his purple uniform.

"No, but I will make you a cup," Harry said and took another cup from the rack.

"Not that one," Malfoy said and moved forward to reach over Harry's shoulder. "This one is mine." He took a black mug trimmed in silver from the rack and set it next to Harry's. It was unadorned, no snakes, no green pattern, no words proclaiming him the World's Best Whatever.

Harry filled it with water whilst Malfoy took another tea ball and stuffed it with leaves. They had quite an assortment, all clearly labelled in a neat row of jars. Harry had chosen a simple Darjeeling, but Malfoy seemed to have a preference that involved pinches of several varieties.

"That looks complicated," Harry commented.

"The best things usually are, Potter," Malfoy replied as he plunked the completed tea ball into the water and reached for the sugar bowl.

Harry thought about the comment as he sipped his tea and watched Malfoy putter about the kitchen. The scene felt both surreal and comfortable. For the first time in a long time, Harry thought it might be nice to have a roommate. His house suddenly seemed very empty and lonely.

"If you two are finished dawdling and drinking all of my expensive tea, I suggest we get moving," Zabini said from the doorway as he adjusted his cap low over his eyes. His uniform was a deeper violet than Malfoy's and did not seem to fit quite so perfectly. Or perhaps the colour simply suited Malfoy more.

Harry gulped the last of his tea and allowed Malfoy to Side-Along him. They appeared inside the Knight Bus, which looked to be parked in the centre of a large, weed-choked field. Zabini moved to the driver's seat and started the bus with a flick of his wand.

"Thursday nights are usually fairly quiet," Malfoy said. "Sometimes we idle for hours playing chess or reading whilst waiting for someone to need a lift. Gets a bit boring at times, not like Mondays."

"Mondays are the busiest?"

"By far."

Harry was about to ask why when he stumbled and practically flew into Malfoy, who caught him and braced them both to keep them from falling as the bus shot forward.

"Hold on," Malfoy murmured into his ear as Harry relaxed his grip on Malfoy's hips and struggled to right himself. Amusement tinted Malfoy's words.

Harry tried not to feel overwhelmed, but Malfoy's nearness tangled his senses, snaring him like the tendrils of a Venomous Tentacula. _Hold on_, he thought and did just that. His fingers tightened and he leaned minutely closer to Malfoy, drinking him in. A wave of pure want seemed to crash over him, leaving him shaken.

Malfoy wrapped an arm around him and pulled him even closer with a chuckle. "Don't worry. You get used to it. It helps to keep an eye on Blaise. He uses his wand to drive most of the time, so you can pick up clues there. Also, the bus shifts a bit just prior to changing direction. Can you feel it?"

_Can you feel it?_ The bus moved, making Harry lean a little to the left, but he could feel nothing but Malfoy and the pounding of his own heart. _Oh god, I want him_, he thought desperately, _I want Draco Malfoy_.

It should not have been as alarming as it was; after all, just that morning he had awakened in Malfoy's bed with a raging hard-on, but this was something different. Lust, he could have dealt with. Desire could be ignored or willed away, or possibly taken care of with enough wanking, or even a one-off. This, however... Harry swallowed as ridiculous visions of tea drinking and afternoon walks, lazy shopping sprees and long hours spent talking and doing stupid things like holding hands or staring into clear grey eyes assailed him. Harry's weeks of avoidance had done nothing but staved off the inevitable. Harry had been lost from the beginning.

He pushed himself away abruptly. "Yes!" he said loudly. "Shifting. Got it!"

Malfoy blinked at him for a moment and then frowned. "Already? What a pity."

The bus stopped and Harry nearly toppled again, this time away from Malfoy. He caught himself on a bedframe and glared at Malfoy as if daring him to comment. He almost hoped for a fight. Anything would be better than the crushing realization.

"Good evening, Mr Ellington," Malfoy said smoothly as a middle-aged wizard stepped aboard, carrying a large knapsack and a gnarled wand, "Do you remember Harry Potter?"

OOOOOOOO

Harry managed to push away his conflicted feelings by resolving to deal with them later. Instead, he focussed on watching Malfoy and trying to gain some perspective. Harry was there, after all, to determine why Malfoy had chosen such odd employment, especially when it was not necessary for him to work at all.

He watched as Malfoy bantered with old witches, smoothed the ruffled feathers of cantankerous wizards, and blithely ignored any slurs or angry words sent his way.

_He's grown up_, Harry thought when a cloak-swathed wizard shoved past Malfoy with a snarled, "Out of my way, Death Eater scum" and Malfoy merely gave the man a mocking bow and disappeared upstairs. Harry supposed he had done some growing up, himself, but apparently not enough to keep from casting a surreptitious Itching Hex on the rude wizard before heading up the stairs to join Malfoy.

"What are you doing?" Harry asked as he entered the small kitchen area tacked onto the rear section of the second level. A door led to the unisex restroom - both spaces had been created utilizing the same spells Harry had first witnessed on the wizarding tents at his first Quidditch World Cup. It seemed a lifetime ago, and yet the magic was no less impressive.

Malfoy held a large mug full of milk and he swirled chocolate into it, stirring it into a small whirlpool with his wand. When the colour was appropriate, Malfoy opened a bottle of brandy and poured a generous amount into the mixture.

"Thursday, midnight. Mr Foster will be boarding shortly and he takes his cocoa with a shot of brandy. He likes to have it ready when he boards so that he can finish it in time to face his wife and explain that he lost another handful of Galleons playing cards with Elphias Kingfisher, just as he does every single Thursday. One would think the woman would tire of nagging him about it, but apparently she doesn't."

Later, they picked up a frightened young man who boarded in a rush and cast nervous glances at the dark stretch of forest beyond the bus windows. "Thought I heard a wolf," he babbled as he fished in a pocket for the fare. "Could be a werewolf. Thought it best to be safe and catch a ride than get eaten. Or turned." The man shuddered and Malfoy patted his shoulder and sat with him until they reached his destination, a small village arrived at almost before his seat grew warm.

As the man exited into the glowing light cast by a sign advertising an all-night pub, Malfoy looked at Harry, who asked, "Do you think there really are werewolves out there?"

"That would be your job, Potter. Mine is only to make sure they arrive safely at their destination."

Harry snorted, but made a mental note to check it out. A sudden yawn took him by surprise and he took off his glasses to rub his eyes.

"We should probably take you home," Malfoy commented. "Do you work tomorrow, or is it another Ministry holiday?"

Harry nodded. "I should pop into the office and finish up some paperwork. It's not an official holiday, although attendance will likely be sparse." He cast a Tempus Charm to find that it was nearly three o'clock. No wonder he was tired. If he was lucky, he might manage five hours of sleep.

"Back to London, Blaise," Malfoy said.

"Aye, aye," Zabini replied. "Number 12, Grimmauld Place."

The bus turned and rocketed through the dark. Malfoy went upstairs and Harry hurried after him, unsure what to say when it was time to exit. Should he make plans to ride again? He remembered that Malfoy did not work on Friday and Saturday nights, and Harry had no real reason to catch the bus on Sunday. The earliest he would ride again would be Monday, which suddenly seemed decades away.

On the third level, Malfoy tucked a blanket around a sleeping man and then walked to what must have been Malfoy's favourite vantage spot. The bus currently travelled a deserted country lane; the countryside beyond the window was dark but for an occasional Muggle light in the distance.

"It's very peaceful," Harry said, moving to stand next to Malfoy.

"Sometimes on long stretches like this it's easy to believe there is nothing at all out there."

Harry said nothing for a moment, scanning the darkness for the next sign of Muggle habitation, and then he said, "I think I know why you do it. This Knight Bus thing."

Malfoy huffed and Harry turned to look at him.

"You like helping people. That's why, isn't it?" Harry asked.

"I'm no Gryffindor, Potter."

"Doesn't matter. I've seen you with your passengers, the way you were with that boy fleeing the 'werewolf' and the way you make cocoa for Mr Foster. You like helping stranded wizards and you really like some of the regulars. I think you love this job."

Malfoy gave him a sardonic smile. "I took this job because I was bored, Potter. Blaise and I did it as a lark. We were too drunk to get home one night and flagged down the Knight Bus. Blaise made a joke that we should annoy our parents and become Knight Bus drivers. It was so hilarious that we actually did it."

Harry nodded. "But you're still doing it. The reason you start something is never as important as the reason you stick with it. Or is there some other frivolous explanation for why you tuck in sleeping customers and throw parties on Tuesday nights and take people home when they can't get there on their own."

"You're the only one I ever took home, Potter."

That warmed Harry, but he refused to be swayed. "And the rest of it?"

Malfoy opened his mouth and Harry sensed another denial forthcoming, so he stepped closer, into Malfoy's personal space. Whatever words Malfoy had planned to say were quelled by an inhalation of breath. Harry put his hands on Malfoy's shoulders.

"Either that or you are simply so vain you cannot bear the thought of no longer wearing that sexy uniform," Harry teased.

"This is not a sexy uniform," Malfoy countered in a barely audible voice. Harry nearly cheered at having rendered him nearly speechless.

"It is on you," Harry replied and leaned in for a kiss.

Malfoy's lips were soft and the kiss was nothing like those in Harry's daydreams. Those had been full of crashing need and desperation, fuelled by Harry's churning need and conflicted emotions. This was far gentler, seeming to reflect the dark countryside and the lulling sounds of the bus.

Their lips met, pressed, and pulled nearly away before pushing forward again, then again, and yet again. It was little more than a tease and hardly anything to write sonnets about, except for the effect it was having on Harry's senses. Malfoy smelled even better up close, especially when his breath mingled with his usual tantalizing scents, filling Harry's lungs with every inhalation. Each gasp seemed to draw Harry ever closer to Malfoy, as though it were a strange ability Malfoy possessed.

And then everything changed. Harry wasn't sure which of them opened up first, but the merest brush of Malfoy's tongue against Harry's lower lip sent a surge of lust roaring through him, making breath itself seem secondary. Harry clutched at Malfoy, glad that he'd been holding onto him. Malfoy made a whimpering sound and Harry realised he was clinging just as tightly to Harry, arms wrapped around his back, pulling him in, preventing escape should Harry be stupid enough to try to flee.

The second brush of tongue was even better and then Harry put his own into play, gliding it against Malfoy's in the same near-delicate manner. It was still nothing like Harry's dreams and ever so much better. The slow play was maddening and brilliant, building layer upon layer of desire with every wet swipe and soft suction.

At some point, Harry realised he was shaking and his hands were clenched so tightly on Malfoy's shoulders that they ached. A moment later he realised that the bus had stopped. He relaxed his fingers reluctantly and pulled his lips from Malfoy's even more reluctantly.

"I believe this is your stop, Potter," Malfoy murmured.

"Yeah," Harry said on a breath and then leaned in for another kiss. He wanted the night to go on forever. He would stay on the bus for eternity, if this was his reward.

Malfoy chuckled against his lips and then nibbled at Harry's tongue in a most delightful fashion. A shift of his hips brought an entirely different sensation into play. Harry was hard and aching, and had been for some time. He was heartened to note that Malfoy seemed to be suffering the same condition.

"Will I..." Harry asked between kisses, "will I see you tomorrow?"

"Not working tomorrow," Malfoy replied and then bit at Harry's bottom lip, working it with his teeth until Harry suspected it would still be puffy and swollen when his alarm went off. He didn't care.

"Come to my place," Harry said. "I'll make you dinner. Or take you to dinner. Or we'll skip dinner. Whatever you prefer."

"Why, Potter, you -"

A horn blared, causing Harry to nearly jump out of his skin. The nearby occupied bed creaked and Harry glanced at it. He had forgotten the sleeper completely and Zabini was apparently becoming impatient.

"I will owl you," Harry said and stepped back with a decisive, near-painful wrench.

"I will watch for it," Malfoy replied and gave him a slow smile. Harry took in his appearance once more. Malfoy's pale hair seemed luminous in the dim light of the streetlamps.

Harry turned and stumbled down the stairs, nearly flinging himself headlong at one point and wrenching his shoulder painfully when he grabbed at the railing to keep from falling.

"Night, Potter," Zabini called with what sounded like a distinct smirk in his tone.

"Goodnight," Harry said and stepped from the bus onto the pavement. Before he could turn and look for a pale figure on the upper level, the Knight Bus was gone.

Harry stood in bemused silence on the silent street for long minutes, and then he made his way inside and went to bed.

OOOOOOOO

The next morning, Harry did the unthinkable. He called off sick to work. He felt slightly guilty, especially when his simple "not feeling well" note spurred a flurry of owls, with no fewer than six people (including Kingsley and Hermione) asking if everything was all right. He supposed he should consider taking more days off as he wasted another quarter hour assuring everyone that he was fine and only slightly under the weather.

After that he crawled back into bed and dozed until nearly noon. Upon rising again, he felt almost human and realised that staying up all night would take some getting used to, should he ever get the urge to become a Knight Bus driver.

He smiled, thinking about Draco. Somewhere between their first kiss and Harry's subsequent heat-filled dreams, Draco had become Draco and no longer Malfoy, and Harry was fine with that. In fact, he was somewhat eager to find Draco and see what effect the use of first name would have, if any.

Since Harry had missed breakfast, he settled for making a toasted sandwich piled high with ham and oozing with cheese. Once his hunger pangs were sorted, he took a shower and spent far too long sorting through his wardrobe looking for something suitable. With a despairing frown, he realised he could use some of Malfoy's shopping expertise, because his entire wardrobe was filled with little more than Muggle t-shirts and oversized jeans.

Decisively, Harry threw on a pair of said jeans and a shirt and headed for Diagon Alley. Vaguely hoping he didn't run into anyone he knew, since he was technically "ill", he entered Madame Malkin's Robe Shop and allowed her to coax him into buying five new sets of robes. He felt much better when he Apparated home and hung his new purchases in his wardrobe. He kept one set on and paused to admire himself in the mirror. The chocolate brown robes over a striped green shirt and cream-coloured trousers looked amazing on him, he had to admit.

After a quick stop in the loo to brush his teeth and drag a comb through his hair, Harry Apparated to Draco's flat. Once there, he bit his lip nervously and cast a Tempus Charm. What if Draco was still asleep? Harry had no idea what time he typically awakened. It was 2:20, which should have been more than enough time for eight hours of rest, provided Draco had gone to bed as soon as his shift ended.

Resolving to knock softly, just in case, Harry lifted his hand and rapped on the portal.

The door opened immediately and Harry gaped at the sight of a wet blond man wearing nothing but a towel... but it wasn't Draco. It was Zacharias Smith.

They stared at one another for several moments and then Smith smirked. "Did you come to join the party, Potter? We were just about to get started. I never took you for the kinky sort, but one never knows what lurks beneath the surface, yeah? Or will this be your first foursome?" Smith stepped closer and lowered his voice. "Draco just loves it when Blaise and I fuck him at the same time. I wonder if he could take three at once. He probably could, he's such a little-"

Harry's jaw dropped and he could not dredge up anything to say, especially when Blaise Zabini appeared, also dripping wet and rubbing at his hair with a towel. Another was wrapped around his hips. He glanced at Harry.

"Oh, hey, Potter. Draco is -"

Harry did not wait for him to finish. He could well imagine where Draco was, either in the shower or the bedroom, or wherever. Images of Draco writhing with Zabini and Smith coiled through his mind like poisonous snakes. He shook his head and backed away from the doorway. Without a word, he Disapparated.

Once home he took off his new clothes and wondered if he would ever be able to look at them again. He felt completely numb. Had Draco - Malfoy - been having him on all this time? Had it been nothing more than a game to lure Harry into some twisted sex game? The thought of Zacharias Smith touching Draco left Harry nearly shaking with disgust, and something he admitted was a fuckton of jealousy.

Fucking Zacharias.

A loud pounding on Harry's front door startled him a moment later. Harry walked to the top of the stairs and waited. Malfoy's voice sounded through the portal.

"Potter! Harry. Let me in. I need to talk to you."

Harry sneered. "I'll bet you do," he muttered.

Malfoy knocked louder. "Damn it, let me in! I can explain!"

Harry glared at the door and went back into the bedroom. He had no fear that Malfoy could break through his wards, since he had strengthened them the moment he'd returned. After a few more minutes of shouting and knocking, Malfoy went away.

Harry supposed he was better off. He went downstairs, located a dusty bottle of Firewhisky, and poured a glass. What had he expected, really? Malfoy was a self-admitted playboy. He lived with Blaise Zabini, a man who would "sleep with anything with a pulse". And Draco - Malfoy - had never admitted to taking the Knight Bus job as anything other than a cure for boredom. Harry had projected his own romantic delusions onto the former Slytherin in order to excuse his own ridiculous desire.

Better he had discovered Malfoy's duplicity now than later. He wondered if Malfoy planned to go to the papers and confess Harry's lapse in judgement.

An owl swooped into the room and landed on the table. It was large and seemed to glare at Harry balefully. Harry swallowed and reached for the message, thankful when he retrieved it without a vicious peck. As soon as the scroll was in hand, the bird flapped its massive wings and departed without waiting for a reply.

**_Potter,  
Thank you so much for accepting whatever Zach told you without bothering to verify the truth of the matter, nor take the time to recall that I am not your personal property._**

_**Have a nice life.**_

_**Draco**_

_**PS - Fuck you.**_

Harry allowed the scroll to reroll and then fall to the floor. He felt far sicker than he had earlier.

Oh god, Zach had lied, and Harry had bought the deception without a second thought, without an instant of hesitation, and then had acted like a jilted lover instead of acknowledging that Draco was free to do as he liked, even if Zach had been truthful. Harry had fucked everything up in a single moment of jealous rage.

~TBC~

*hides*


	4. Chapter 4

Harry realised he needed help. He could not just go and see Draco and apologise. He would be lucky to make it out of the room with his balls intact. And Draco's note had not encouraged contact.

Normally, Harry would go to see Hermione. However, in this case he realised she might not be the best authority. For one, it would be awkward enough to explain his interest in Draco Malfoy after assuring her he was not obsessed. Harry preferred to tackle that beast if and when it might be an actual possibility again. Also, Hermione was not exactly an authority on romance, having spent seven years not-so-stealthily tracking Ron Weasley and then locking him up tightly.

Additionally, Harry knew he would have to think outside the box for this one. It would not be an easy task to win back the irritated Slytherin. What Harry needed was a Ravenclaw.

OOOOOOOO

Harry pulled the cloak more closely around himself and huddled close to his companion. It was not raining at the moment, but it had been doing so fitfully throughout the day and he expected it to start again at any time. Additionally, it was cold. He tried to control his breathing in order to avoid making steam clouds.

The Knight Bus stopped before Harry's fingers grew numb, but no Draco Malfoy hopped out to greet him. Harry's companion stepped aboard the bus and he quickly crowded on behind her, careful not to step on the hem of her dark purple cloak.

"Welcome aboard the Knight Bus," Zabini said in a bored tone, "the world's best transportation option for a stranded witch or wizard. Where will it be, madam? Destination address?"

"I will let you know when I decide where I am going," she replied.

Zabini craned his neck to look at her sharply, but her features were hidden in the folds of her hood. She reached out a hand and dropped the fare into Zabini's outstretched palm.

Zabini shrugged. "Whatever. As long as you figure it out before my shift ends."

"Is Draco Malfoy aboard?" she asked.

"Upstairs," Zabini replied with another narrow stare, but he must have decided she was not much of a threat. He turned back to the windscreen and shifted the bus into gear.

"Third level," Harry murmured and followed her up the stairs.

Draco was in his usual place, forehead resting against the glass. His breath fogged the pane with each slow exhalation.

"Hello, Draco."

The blond head lifted and a surprised look flitted across Draco's features. "Luna. I haven't seen you since... Well. It has been a long time. Hello."

"Since the war, yes. You haven't accepted any of my invitations."

Draco looked away. "It would have been awkward."

"I understand." She moved closer and looked out the window for a moment, as if sharing Draco's view. A Muggle neighbourhood flew by in a blur of multi-coloured lights. She smiled at him. "I am here to bring you a petition."

"A what?"

"A petition. A Formal Petition of Apology."

Draco's brow furrowed. "A _formal _petition? From whom?"

Harry shook the invisibility cloak from his shoulders and let it fall. "From me."

Draco turned and looked at him and then snapped his attention back to the window. "I am not interested."

"He is fully prepared to offer everything. Magical binding, gifts, formal declarations, and whatever else you require," Luna said.

"Gifts?" Draco asked, turning to look at her.

She nodded. "He's brought the first one, should you agree to his terms."

Draco glanced again at Harry and then back at Luna. "Formal declarations? In the Daily Prophet?"

"I have a number of drafts for your approval. We will send whichever you like to whatever publications you choose. I would hope that you will include the Quibbler, of course, but the choice is yours."

Luna removed several scrolls from her robes and handed them to Draco. For the first time, Harry felt a sliver of hope. He had half-expected Draco to send him away, unacknowledged and despised.

"What gift?" Draco asked without opening the scrolls.

Harry felt a flicker of nervousness, but he forced it down and stepped forward. He pulled the small box from his pocket and held it out. Draco made no move to take it and Harry's heart thudded in his chest, feeling the sting of rejection until Luna took the box and opened it.

The small sphere was nearly invisible in the muted light.

"What is it?" Draco asked.

"A Suitor Sphere," Harry replied. "It's something like a Sneak-o-scope, except that instead of detecting enemies it detects..."

Draco lifted out the crystalline globe, which burst into brilliant lavender light.

"...the presence of someone who desires you," Luna finished.

Draco stared at the glowing circle for a moment and then a familiar smile curved his lips. "Well, then. It won't ever go out, will it?"

"Not while Harry is nearby," Luna said.

Draco's smile faded and he dropped the sphere back into the box and shut it with a snap. Harry blinked in the sudden darkness.

"I accept the terms of the petition," he said. "Now get him out of here before I kill him."

Luna turned and took Harry's arm.

"Wait -" Harry tried to shake off Luna's grip.

"I think he's serious, Harry. Give him some time while we work on your next gift. The first one was promising, don't you think?"

With one last beseeching look at Draco, Harry snatched up his cloak and allowed Luna to drag him downstairs. Luna tugged him from the bus at the next stop and Disapparated them back to Grimmauld Place.

OOOOOOOO

"This is a very old ritual, Harry. He will know if you are not sincere."

"But I _am _sincere!"

"Then it should be simple, but you have to be patient."

Harry sat back in his chair with a sigh of frustration. Patience was one thing he had never quite learned.

"It's been a _week_!"

She threw him an amused look and her earrings bobbed and waved their tentacles. They were blue squids today, or octopi; Harry wasn't sure what was the difference.

"Very well, I suppose you can arrange a meeting for his next gift. Typically, the first meeting isn't for two weeks, but he might be willing to forgive you more quickly than normal. He hasn't objected to any of our requests so far. I think he likes you."

Two weeks? Harry could barely believe he had withstood even a week of the agonizing process. First there were the cryptic notices posted in the papers, such as the one that read **_I, HJP, hereby extend a heartfelt apology to DLACM and hope that my momentary lapse in judgement will one day be forgiven. _**That one, of course, had perplexed many people but not Hermione Granger, who had appeared in Harry's office later that day demanding an explanation.

"Wait, he likes me? What makes you say that? I haven't heard a single thing from him since he threatened to kill me."

"He didn't mean it, Harry. I am sure he was still hurt, which is the very reason for all of this. I think the fact that he hasn't returned a single one of your gifts is promising, don't you?"

Harry gnawed his lip to refrain from speaking. He thought it far more likely that Draco hadn't returned any of his gifts because Harry had spent a ridiculous fortune on them, from the Balinese singing wind chimes to the chess set made of hand-carved malachite with silver inlay.

"All right, then. We will request a meeting. Do you prefer a public place or somewhere more private, such as his residence?"

"Please, nowhere public," Harry begged. He had already received far too much mail from disgruntled persons who had figured it out nearly as quickly as Hermione.

"Very well. You might want to make the next gift something special, in case he accepts."

Something special. Harry wondered if a looping photograph of Ron Weasley's horrified reaction upon hearing of Harry's crush on Draco would be acceptable. Despite himself, he grinned at the memory.

Luna reached over and patted Harry's hand. "I'll draft the letter now."

OOOOOOOO

Harry knocked on Malfoy's door and tried not to remember the last time he had stood here, an impossible task when it opened to reveal Zacharias Smith. He was fully clothed this time, thank Merlin, and frowned when he saw Harry.

"Potter," he said in a wary tone.

Harry glared at him and clenched his teeth on a number of unfriendly responses, deciding it might be best to go the "nothing at all" route, although he did consider punching Smith as an alternative to speaking.

A throat-clearing sound caused both Harry and Smith to glance around. Blaise Zabini stood at the end of the hall, arms akimbo, his eyes fixed on Smith, who turned back to Harry without looking at him.

"Ah. Potter. Sorry about my little joke before. I didn't realize you and Malfoy were... I didn't know. It was a just a joke."

"Funny," Harry commented, but his gaze shifted to Zabini with a raised eyebrow.

Zabini walked towards them and reached up to fluff Smith's blond hair. "Good boy, Zach. Now go to my room and wait for your reward."

Smith's blue eyes flashed. "I'm not your dog," he muttered, but he turned and disappeared down the hall. Zabini watched him go with what could only be fondness.

"He can be adorable when he's not being a complete shit," Zabini commented.

"I'll take your word for it," Harry replied.

"Draco is in the kitchen," Zabini said. "You know where it is. Good luck, Potter." With that, he hurried after Smith, so Harry steeled himself and headed for the kitchen.

Draco stood with his back to Harry. He was busy with something on the counter that Harry couldn't see.

"Hi," Harry said while he drank in the sight of Draco's arse clad in pale grey trousers. He quickly looked up when Draco turned around, cheeks going pink as he hoped he hadn't been caught ogling.

"Potter."

Harry winced. He hadn't been hoping for a warm greeting, exactly, but the single surname did not seem especially promising.

"Would you like some tea?" Draco asked in a bland tone that gave Harry no additional hope.

"No. I just came to... Um." Harry combed a frustrated hand through his hair. "Why am I doing this?" he muttered to himself.

Draco lifted a brow. "Indeed. Why are you doing this? While I have been reluctantly impressed with your tenacity, I cannot fathom your motives."

Harry blinked at him. "My motives? You can't be serious. My motives should be the most obvious bloody thing in the world." He walked closer until he stood directly before Draco, who held his teacup between them like a barrier.

"If you wanted to apologise, there are simpler ways."

"I thought of quite a few simpler ways, but I didn't think you would let me get close enough to try them out," Harry admitted.

"You're close right now."

Harry did not think the husky-rough sound of Draco's voice was a mistake, so he screwed up his courage and closed the distance between them. He leaned close and was rewarded with the sight of Draco's eyes going wide and dark. His lips parted, as if in anticipation of Harry's kiss.

A heady rush exploded through Harry's veins, but instead of taking the expected route, he lowered himself slowly to his knees without taking his eyes from Draco's.

"Well, first I thought I might start here," Harry said and pressed his lips to the slight bulge beneath Draco's fly. To his delight, it began to grow and he moved his mouth upwards, opening it to trace the curving edges.

"That's... a very good place to start." Draco's voice sounded even huskier, a sexy rasp. Harry closed his eyes and heard the teacup rattle against the countertop. "I am curious to see where you plan to go from there."

With a wicked grin and a quickening of his pulse from the encouragement, he brought his fingers up to tease at the buttons of Malfoy's trousers. He popped two of them, not ceasing his nuzzling movements. He felt one of Malfoy's hands slip into his hair, both caressing and anchoring him in place.

The third button pulled free of its confining hole and then Harry heard a sharp exclamation.

"For the love of Slytherin, don't you have a bedroom? Some of us would like to grab a snack without being traumatised for life." Zabini's voice sounded far more horrified than Harry would have expected. Harry buried his face in the curve of Draco's hip, hoping to hide his burning cheeks.

Draco snorted. "A snack, really? More likely some jam to smear all over Smith so you can lick it off, although that is an image I can do without."

"Exactly. I feel the same way about watching Potter do the same to you, so if you please..."

"Your closet prudishness never ceases to amaze me, Blaise. Hang on, Harry." Draco's hand tightened in Harry's hair and then he felt a slight jolt as they Apparated. "I hope the change of venue meets with your approval."

Harry's quick glance took in the bedroom in which he had once awakened. A flare of purple light burst from the dressing table. Harry smiled when he saw the Suitor Sphere there, gleaming brightly from the force of Harry's desire. He nodded. "Very much so," he said and returned to his task of extracting Draco from his trousers.

"And apparently your gift works."

"Indeed. It's unlikely anyone wants you more than I do. Not that your ego needs additional fodder."

Draco wasn't wearing shoes, so his trousers pooled around his ankles and he stepped neatly out of the confinement. His cock strained at the surprising pants Draco wore - pale blue boxers printed with flying white owls.

"Interesting undergarments," Harry commented with a grin.

"I would have chosen something more predictable if I had known you were coming."

"I admit that I rather like your unpredictability," Harry admitted and kissed Draco's shaft through the material. The owls fluttered out of the way of Harry's lips and gathered near Draco's hipbones. "Perhaps we should take these off? I seem to be alarming your owls."

"You are full of good ideas today, aren't you?"

"I have my moments." Harry hooked his fingers into the waistband of the pants only to find they were tied with a black silk ribbon. Harry sought for the bow and spared a brief thought that it was far sexier than elastic, for a certainty. The ribbon was tied at the small of Draco's back and Harry pulled the laces while pressing open-mouthed kisses to Draco's cock, licking at the growing wet spot on the fabric and adding to it with his own saliva.

Draco's breathing was becoming erratic and Harry hadn't even uncovered him. Harry's cock strained painfully at his jeans and he wondered if he should spare a moment to free it, but then Draco's pants loosened and uncovered the head of Draco's amazing cock.

"Oh," Harry said on a breath and took in his first sight of it, feeling as if he had just opened a Christmas parcel. "There you are."

Before Draco could comment, Harry licked the glistening drop at the head of Draco's cock, earning a throaty groan and the swift tightening of Draco's fingers in his hair. He licked it again, more firmly, and then wrapped his lips around it, sucking gently whilst teasing the crown with his tongue.

"Fuck." The word was nearly inaudible and Harry chanced a glance upwards, to see that Draco had his head thrown back, exposing the line of his throat. It was a beautiful sight and the white button-down shirt made him seem almost debauched.

Harry would have made a sardonic quip, but his mouth was busy and he didn't want to pull away from Draco's cock, so he simply hummed in agreement and continued his motions, taking it deeper inch by slow inch. He relaxed his throat when he got near the base and shoved forward until his nose was nearly buried in blonde curls. His fingers curved around Draco's bare arse.

"You bastard, you've done this before," Draco growled.

Harry only hummed again and pulled nearly away before taking him deeply once more. He may have experimented a time or two on Muggles, but he had never taken as much pleasure in the task as he currently felt. Harry's previous sexual encounters seemed more like research; this was personal.

He glanced up and met Draco's eyes, letting the heat of his passion show in his stare. It seemed to do the trick; Draco bit his lip after uttering another oath, but that might have been in response to Harry's tongue working that manoeuvre... there. The second attempt earned a strangled cry and Harry restrained a pleased chuckle. He had to hand it to Hermione; on occasion, research really paid off.

"Fucking brilliant," Draco said and jerked his hips forward, ramming the back of Harry's throat until he clenched his fingers in Draco's hipbones to halt that nonsense. Harry pulled away completely and then shoved hard. Draco stumbled back and fell upon the bed with a surprised bark of sound.

Before he could speak, Harry was on him, crouched between his legs and holding him in place with firm pressure on his thighs. He swallowed Draco's cock once more and then gentled his grip and slid his hands up and down the trembling muscles, appreciating the feel of the taut flesh beneath his hands.

Harry's movements became quicker as Draco's breathing grew louder and more ragged, interspersed with whimpers and broken curses. His fingers alternately trembled and clenched in Harry's hair. Harry's jaw ached and he knew his lips would be red and raw when he finished, but he did not relent until Draco shouted aloud.

Bitter, hot fluid filled the back of Harry's mouth and he swallowed quickly to avoid gagging, still pumping gently until the quivering of Draco's body diminished.

"So." Harry lifted his head to look at Draco languidly. "Have you decided to accept my apology?"

Draco patted Harry's head weakly without raising his head from the bed. Harry suspected he didn't have the energy to do so; he lay like a limp rag, unmoving but for the hand half-tangled in Harry's hair. "I don't know, Potter." His voice was rough and to Harry's delight he sounded completely blissed out. "That was a pretty grievous insult."

"You called me Harry before."

"It is easier to think of you as Harry when my cock is halfway down your throat."

Harry bit him, sinking his teeth into the soft flesh of Draco's right thigh. The hand swiftly clenched in Harry's hair and pulled him up, finally lifting his head to meet Harry's eyes.

Draco's expression was amused. "I didn't know you were a biter. _Harry_." His voice was soft and seductive and Harry remembered that his cock was still hard and aching.

"I'll bite you anywhere and everywhere you like," Harry promised. He ignored the hand in his hair and pressed a kiss to the spot he'd bitten. Draco's fingers relaxed and Harry's tongue flicked over it. Draco drew a shaky breath and Harry decided he would bite and lick the rest of Draco as soon as he'd recovered a bit more. "And I am sorry for believing that you could ever do anything with Smith. Frankly, I can hardly fathom _anyone _with Smith, so I should have known he was lying, but seeing him nearly naked with Zabini..."

Draco snorted. "I was rather amazed when Blaise brought him home that first time. I thought it would be a one-off, but I think it's progressed. Smith is almost not an arse at rare times. Blaise seems to have him quite firmly wrapped around his wand."

Harry snickered at the innuendo. "Well, for what it's worth, I suppose I was a bit jealous, which is why I reacted the way I did."

Draco cupped Harry's jaw for a moment and then squeezed slightly too-painfully and dragged Harry upwards until he was close enough to plant a bruising kiss on his mouth. Harry reflected that one way or another, interacting with Draco Malfoy always led to bruises. He much preferred getting them this way, however.

"What shall we do about this?" Draco asked and cupped Harry's cock with one warm hand. Harry groaned and thrust helplessly, near-desperate with the need for release.

"Draco," he said on a moan.

It seemed to take forever for Draco to pop the button and lower the zip of Harry's jeans. When he finally took another grip on Harry's cock - this time with only the thin cotton of Harry's pants between them - it felt so good that Harry gave up all control. He came hard, grinding against Draco's palm and soaking his pants. Slightly mortified, he tried to pull away, but Draco's hand tightened, holding him in place.

"That was ridiculously hot," Draco said. "I will probably forgive you soon. It might take a couple more of those apologies, though."

Harry collapsed on him with a weak laugh. "Greedy."

"Guilty, as charged," Draco said and extracted his hand from between them. He wiped his palm on the buttocks of Harry's jeans and Harry made a protesting noise. Draco chuckled and then reached up to take something from beneath his pillow. "Here, hold this a moment."

Harry propped himself on his elbows and held out his hand. Draco dropped a Mood Cube into it and Harry snorted. "What is this for?"

"I am curious about something."

As they watched, the cube began to gleam, eventually taking on a curious lavender hue tinted with pink and laced with blue swirls. "What does it mean?" Harry asked.

"As I suspected. You're completely smitten with me. Admit it."

Draco's hand closed over the cube as though to take it back, but Harry grabbed his fingers and turned his hand over. He dropped the cube into Draco's hand and waited. The glow only minutely changed, more blue than purple, shot through with pink. Harry chuckled.

"I admit it," he said and admired the blush that appeared on Draco's cheeks. "Since you seem to feel the same."

Draco closed his fist and pulled his hand away to thrust the cube back beneath his pillow. "Stupid thing," he muttered.

Harry levered himself up and kissed Draco, revelling in the brilliance of it and recalling that it was their first since that time on the Knight Bus.

"Smitten," Harry declared after long minutes. Draco pulled him back down, but he did not bother to deny it.

As Harry snuggled up to Draco for what promised to be a marathon snogging session followed by more "apologising", he reflected that although the journey had been bumpy with unexpected delays and surprises, the Knight Bus had brought him home at last.

~END~

Fear not! The next fic will be longer! SO much longer. Also, for the curious: Draco Lucius Abraxus Cygnus Malfoy :D


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